AU: So, my first non-one shot for this fandom. I've been gone for a long time, but this idea just kept nicking at me until I wrote it down. Warning: In-explicit mention of suicide attempt. (not this chapter) This story is K+ except for that, though it's in-explicit like I said
Enjoy.
Rain- It gives life, even when it arrives as storm bursting with lightning and booming with thunder as the storm that had set upon this city was. Only some water doesn't bring life. No matter how thirsty one becomes, the age old proverb declaring that some water can't be consumed, not even a drop, could be considered more of an ongoing nightmare than a dream of the past for the man huddled within his flat.
Rain pelted down onto the windowpane, and a fire crackled in the hearth. Both of these were kind, homely sounds, yet the booming thunder made the young man flinch. Each dull, far away crash might have been a cannon firing directly next to him as far as the man's ears could tell. Standing from his plushy arm chair, the man wrapped his blanket more tightly around himself and he poked the fire, a warmth radiating onto him. Sighing, the man turned from the flames and hurried into his kitchen, retrieving a cup and brewing some strong tea. He wasn't going to be sleeping tonight anyway, he might as well try to enjoy the cold night and ignore his currently broken thermostat. Lucy was everlastingly telling him to fix that, but he of all people could stand his nights to be a bit cold. It wasn't as if he hadn't survived cold nights before.
The tea pot whistled merrily, so he poured himself a cup before going to sit again; however a stiff knock at the door made him lower the cup to the coffee table. Folding the blanket neatly, the man checked his watch to see it wasn't really late, but visiting hours were growing short. Whoever could it be? Then he remembered.
Of course, he'd promised to let Lucy watch her favorite show on his new and improved television set. He'd only bought it in order to populate this flat and try to feel at home. It was his third house in six years, after all, and his therapist said to buy things new and modern to help him forget his childhood home. That had been the idea of moving, after all. His first house had been fairly similar to where he was raised, and so he moved away to try and forget. However, no matter how he tried, it seemed that his taste in homes was quite similar to that of his parents. This was the first that hadn't had metaphorical ghosts hiding behind every corner.
His physiologist had only once suggested facing his past, and she'd driven him closer to what used to be his home town. That had given rise to his third move. Never again would he face his past.
A second, and a third knock sounded at the door, so the man shock himself to clear the cobwebs. Then he marched toward the door, grabbed the door knob, and pulled the door open.
"Sorry for the wait," he addressed who he expected to be Lucy, but instead someone else stood outside his flat. Slowly, the man's previously warm grin faded, and it was replaced by a faraway stare of denial. His calm breath was caught in his chest, and it took only a moment before he choked on a ragged gasp.
It was not the cheery eyed, round faced Lucy who stood patiently before him. It was a thin, angular man sporting a black, slouched jacket and a shock of red hair.
It was footsteps that eventually called his mind back to the uninvited guest, and one glance showed that the red haired man had retreated to the other end of the hall. No longer was the red haired man standing in front of the door, a nervous flicker in his eyes. In fact, no longer was the red haired man standing. Leaning against the wall, he had slid into a protective crouch, his hands wrapped firmly around his knees, his eyes staring a hole through the carpeted floor.
The man in the door way suddenly gasped for the breath that he'd forgot to take. It took a moment before the man in the doorway even considered taking a step out of his flat, and a bucket load of sheer will power not to propel himself back into his flat, slamming and bolting the door behind him.
Casting a look over at the shivering, huddled mass of rain-soaked terror, the man still half in and half out of his doorway felt something inside himself flip flop. The red hair, it had momentarily stilled him, but nothing said that this puny person was anything but pitiful. Taking a deep breath, the man hurried over to the mass that was muddying the entryway, and slowly the red head lifted to meet the other man's eye.
"Are you alright?" The first man's voice shook despite himself. Clearing his throat and looking below the red hair, he tried again. "My name is Ralph, do you need help? I've a got a phone if you need to call someone. Or I could call someone?"
The red haired man swallowed so hard that Ralph wonder if he had something lodged in his throat, and then he spoke in a hollow voice.
"I made a mistake. I... I was meant to... But it was a mistake. I... I'll need to be going."
Taking a closer look at this visitor, Ralph realized that this man was not skinny, he was positively gaunt. His cheek bones jutted out of his pale face just below his heavily bagged, swollen eyes. He looked right similar to Ralph himself until he'd performed his third move and started seeing his physiologist five times a week.
The man stood, physically pushing Ralph out of the way, but Ralph shook his head. Whoever this poor, aging fellow was, he clearly was not in his right mind and thus he needed help. Besides, he was so weak and skinny, Ralph knew he couldn't pose a threat.
"Sir," Ralph stopped the ancient looking man, "Are you sure you don't want me to call someone for you? Do you need help? Perhaps I could bring you a warm cuppa?"
The man stared hard into Ralph's eyes, and then he swallowed again.
"I ain't got no one to call," the man's voice was rough and grating, but as he continued to look into Ralph's eyes, it smoothed and grew a bit kinder. "But a warm cuppa would be, well, a bit nice before going back into the downpour."
Ralph nodded, his eyes searching instinctively for any sign of aggression. His usual one run over showed that Ralph could easily beat this man in a fight. Old habits die hard. Helping the frail man into the room, Ralph scurried away to make another pot of hot tea, which he delivered quickly. He shoveled a lump of sugar into the cup before placing it in the still shivering man's hands.
"So, the wrong building?" Ralph asked, and the other man raised an eyebrow in question, so Ralph clarified. "You came into the wrong building?"
"No I... Well, I mean this is where I was meant to go, I just thought it was a mistake."
"Oh," Ralph hesitated, "Do I know you then, sir?"
"Ralph I... No I don't think so. I should be going. I... I'm sorry for disturbing you."
"Wait, you said you were meant to come here. Why?"
"Please, I need to be going."
"But-"
"I need to leave!"
"If you insist, but please don't hesitate to..." To what? Ralph questioned himself. Then he started his statement over. "Where will you be going?"
"Does it matter?"
"It's just, I'd hate to turn you out into a storm like this if you aren't going anywhere in particular."
"Ralph, you have been very kind, and I'm... I'm... I'm glad to see you've done alright for yourself, but you don't want me here. I'll be out of your way and everyone's way soon enough. Don't worry, I'll just be going. No, wait, before I go, I had to give you this."
The red haired man placed something smooth and shiny on the coffee table before he stood, clasping the back of the chair for balance.
"I'd come for two reasons. One is to say sorry, you see. Perhaps it wasn't a mistake after all, that. Good bye, Ralph. That was the other thing, you see; I'd come to say goodbye."
"Do I know you?" Ralph asked, confused and slightly nervous, but the man only smiled a sad smile and shook his head. Then he turned and strode toward the door. As he was leaving, Lucy appeared and started at the man as he stumbled into the hallway and then into the stormy night.
"Who was that old man?" Lucy asked Ralph, and Ralph shook his head.
"I don't know, really, but I don't think he was old. I just think he was very, very troubled."
"Oh, well if he's gone let's watch The Night Out. Come on, Ralph, where's your new television? Oh there it is! It is very nice."
Ralph nodded, fumbling for the television controls, but his mind remained locked on the red haired, wrinkled, gaunt man.
AU: Please tell me what you think so far.